New World

• Ashleigh Mcdougall , Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2018

The sun filtered through the blinds, shining into my eyes. The day was finally here, and I had managed to fall asleep. The night before had been undyingly long. Just the thought of discovering a new species got me excited. I grabbed my worn backpack that was now stuffed with food, several bottles full of water and most importantly, my camera. My hand rested on the doorknob as I looked back at my house. I may never return, but I had to know what was inside the Bermuda triangle. I faced the door with a determined look on my face. Off I went. Determined to discover new things and make it home to tell everyone about them.
I entered my car and took a deep breath before putting in the destination of where I kept my plane. It was a two-hour drive, so I stopped for a few coffees on the way to keep myself awake. Once I had arrived, I grabbed my backpack and made sure I had everything and checked the fuel for my plane. Everything was good to go. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Was I crazy? Maybe I was. I was having second thoughts about this, but then I remembered that this was always my dream as a kid, to explore and discover new things. And here I was, and I wasn’t backing out. I hopped in, started the engine, and planned my route to the Bermuda triangle.
I felt lost. From the air, I couldn’t see any landmarks. It looked like everything was just covered in fog. I must’ve been getting close. I had read a few theories about why planes and ships go missing around this area, so I was trying to keep an eye out for them, such as hexagonal clouds, tropical storms, but I couldn’t see anything. Now everything was masked by fog. I could barely see the ocean which was directly below my plane. My heart beat was slowly increasing. I was getting worried. What if I didn’t even make it to the Bermuda Triangle? What if I crash before I even get there? I could see something forming in the distance, I just couldn’t make out what.
My rusty yellow plane shook like an earthquake. My plane was being drawn into what looked like a lightning storm. Every now and then there was a little lightning strike. Wait a minute, I had read about this. It was called electronic fog. This was not good. I was starting to enter it. My compass was spinning like a dancer doing pirouettes, around and around and around. The fog surrounded the screaming waterspout, taking in everything in its path, dragging it into the other side of the water spout. It was a drain and my plane was a droplet of water, going around and around, and then finally, being taken. My heart was racing, trying to rip out of my chest. I was going to die, I knew it.